[blenkarnie]

Of course Max was just dreaming about Mona in his hospital bed, dreaming while he was awake, the liquid in his body containing 90% morphene and all the pain killers the nurses could pack in his mouth between interrogations by the NYPD detectives whispering and smoking outside the door of his room which looked out over a blank redbrick wall punctuated by smoke rising from a ventilation shaft on the floor below. "Who killed Cognitti." seemed to be the main point of the day's discussions. Angelino Cognitti was the DA and he wanted to know what happened to the cousin to which he claimed not to be related. Max knew the score, accidental shooting by an officer as he left St. Barnabas Hospital on Third Ave in the Bronx. He blinked and Mona was gone. Where she stood was an old priest leaning over him with a black book in one hand and a rosary in the other. The priest moved his whiskey smelling mouth close to Max's ear, his stubble annoyingly itching Max's sore cheek. The old man whispered "A message from Angelino, you're dead you freakin' motherf***** cop, you know that, you're gonna be iced!"- The priest slowly stood up, blessing Max by touching his forehead with his short stubby, nictoine stained fingers and then continued loudly for the nurses to hear -My son." Max watched him with his blurred vision as he slowly faded away down the ward like a black cloud clearing from his eyes.